


countdown

by fanfiction_trashpile



Category: triple frontier - Fandom
Genre: Drinking, Frankie has a house party, New Years Eve 2020, gender neutral reader, new years eve fic, reader - Freeform, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28460679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_trashpile/pseuds/fanfiction_trashpile
Summary: New Years with Frankie and his friends complicates things...
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Gender Neutral Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader, Santiago "Pope" Garcia/You
Kudos: 8





	countdown

You knocked on Frankie’s door quickly, shivering in the cold.

A mop of black curls answered the door. Your breath caught.

“Santiago. Hi.”

He looked just as stunned as you were. “Hey… I didn’t know Frankie invited you.”

 _Frankie_. Frankie invited you. Because Santiago never would have made that mistake.

“Uh, yeah. Happy New Year? Almost?” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Can I come in? Or do I have to stand out in the cold all night—”

“Yes!” He swung the door wide open, stepping aside. “Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen you.”

The last time you saw each other, you’d nearly kissed him.

It had been more than six months ago. Frankie had invited you and Santi over for movies, falling asleep promptly (as he always did), which left you and his other best friend to idly chat. A chat that turned into fingers brushing and his hot breath mingling with yours as you leaned closer. Until Frankie snored and startled himself awake, leaving you to drown in the puddle of confusion and hormones.

For six months.

This would be fine.

You knocked the snow off your boots before stepping inside. “It’s fine.” You lied. “It has been a while. You’ve been well?”

_Who even talks like that?_

“Yeah. Busy. You?”

Frankie saved you from having to respond. He barrelled around the corner, throwing himself at you and lifting you off the ground. “ _Hello_!” He sung into your shoulder as he twirled you around. When he finally set you down, he spun you around to face Santi. “You know Pope, right?”

You nodded slowly. “We’ve met.” _And he’s frequented your sex dreams but that’s fine._

“Oh good! Pope is living here right now, so you’ll get to know each other.”

Frankie wasn’t giving you time to process anything, it seemed. He looped an arm around your waist and dragged you into his living room.

Their living room.

Santiago and Frankie.

Dear god.

It was loud, but in the best way. The boys were always loud and rambunctious, and you loved every second of it. But you didn’t exactly have the chance to get a word in edgewise.

At some point, Benny got up and you ended up stuck between Frankie and Santiago.

Santi was quiet. Given he was usually in the middle of the disaster that was the boys, you figured something was wrong. But you couldn’t exactly _ask._ Not after the awkwardness when you arrived.

So instead, you leaned over and quietly asked. “Where’d the nickname ‘Pope’ come from?”

Santi almost looked embarrassed.

Frankie cut in before he could even open his mouth. “It’s ‘cause he thinks his dick is a religious experience.”

The boys around you guffawed, but even the ruckus couldn’t pull your eyes away from Santi, even as Frankie got caught up in a different conversation.

He just shrugged. “It’s what I’ve been told. Don’t know what to tell you.”

“What’s your sample size on that?” The words came tumbling out of your mouth before you’d realized you’d spoken.

Only Santi seemed to hear you. “Hm?”

“People have told you that. But do you have a reasonable sample size?”

_Flirting with science. This is where we are. Great._

He froze, his mouth hanging open. “Uh… I could afford to have another test subject.”

“Oh.” you squeaked.

An understanding passed between you in the few beats you locked eyes. He smiled at you, soft and sweet, and your stomach flipped.

Santi set a hand on yours as he moved to get up, leaning close enough to whisper. “Meet me upstairs.” To anyone else, it looked like he was just heading upstairs for some peace and quiet.

You tried not to tremble where you sat. Knee bouncing, you checked the time on your phone every few seconds.

Five minutes should be enough time, right?

Maybe three. Three minutes.

Two minutes passed and you couldn’t wait any longer. You hopped out of your seat, trying not to run in your effort to get up the stairs before Frankie (or anyone else) noticed.

You knew where Frankie’s spare bedroom was. Hell, you’d crashed in that bed more than a few times.

Your hand hovered over the knob. You knew Santi was on the other side. He had to be. Maybe he was waiting like you were. Fidgeting. Messing up his hair as he dragged his hands through it.

The door swung open.

Santi froze. He stared at you, barely breathing, as you both tried to figure out what was going on.

He broke the silence first. “I was coming to get you.” he breathed, “I thought maybe you’d left.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

You stepped closer and he pulled you into his arms.

You weren’t sure who leaned in first. But his mouth was on yours and you forgot how to breath.

His hands slipped under your shirt as he walked you back into the room. He cradled you as he lowered you back onto the bed and quickly climbed on top of you, his lips hardly leaving you.

He moved slowly, as if you had all the time in the world. As if Frankie wouldn’t kill you both for ‘making out like teenagers in his house’ if he found you.

As if you hadn’t been waiting for this since the last time you’d been in this house together.

The echoes through the vents just sounded like noise, until you realized that the people downstairs were counting.

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

“Happy New Year.” Santi mouthed at your throat. His chuckle rumbled low against your chest and you squirmed beneath him.

You flipped him over, squishing his cheeks between your palms and kissed him firmly.

“Happy New Year, Santi.” Smiling down at him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be nervous. His dark eyes were too soft, his hands too firm on your waist. When you kissed him again, you melted into it.


End file.
